


my only familiar

by graceana



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, M/M, i blame this whole thing on linda, i know i ended in the middle of smut basically but i am not in the mood to write it lol, okay enjoy!, you need a spell? just type the enlgish in latin and bam you have one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 17:11:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graceana/pseuds/graceana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>louis’ a witch and harry’s his familiar and no one can come between them.</p><p> </p><p>  <em>“There’s my boy,” Louis coos, then stands on slightly raised toes to kiss Harry’s pink lips.</em></p><p> </p><p>  <em>“Missed you,” Harry replies, his voice deep and raspy, as it always is right after he changes into his human form.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	my only familiar

**Author's Note:**

> basically all you need to know is that witches have familiars that are usually an animal that can go human, and basically they're soulmates in the simplest of terms. and sometimes the familiars have powers, and also the familiars pretty much do everything for witch and they're both very protective of the other. i edited of course but if they're any mistake i'm sorry! enjoy! .x 
> 
> this basically is all linda's fault and i blame her. 
> 
> (all 'spells' are made up obviously and are in latin from google translate and their translated in the end notes! also this is sot of lightly based on an episode of supernatural so there's that.)

“Harry!” Louis shouts, when he walks into the flat. He has bags hanging from his hands that he immediately drops onto the floor as he's toeing off his worn Vans.

A moment later, Louis hears a thud and then pattering paws against the wood floor of the hallway that leads to the front door. Harry wraps himself around Louis’ ankles in greeting, purrs when he head butts his head along his calves. The fluffiness of his white and brown fur tickles Louis, making a giggle escape his lips.

“Come on then, help me with these bags,” Louis instructs

Harry stops, looks up to Louis with piercing green eyes before he licks at his paws in protest.

Louis rolls his eyes, Harry is such a diva sometimes. “Come on, I bought you that tuna that you said you wanted to make,” he sing-songs.

Harry’s ears immediately lift in interest. He starts to run around in circles, as if he’s chasing his own tail, before he’s standing tall over Louis.

“There’s my boy,” Louis coos, then stands on slightly raised toes to kiss Harry’s pink lips.

“Missed you,” Harry replies, his voice deep and raspy, as it always is right after he changes into his human form.

“Missed you too.” Louis pecks Harry one more time, then starts off down the hall and towards the kitchen. “Grab those for me?” Louis calls, and he doesn’t even finish his sentence before Harry is grabbing the small number of bags from the floor and hauling them to the kitchen.

“What’d you get?” Harry asks, involuntarily going to lick the back of his hand, but then realises that he’s furless at the moment. Instead he shakes out his deep brown curls and sweeps a hand through them to push them across his forehead.  

“Just a few things mostly,” Louis informs, taking the tuna filet from the bag and placing it on the counter. He smiles at Harry, “Told you I would get it.”

“Never doubted that you would.” Harry cuddles up behind him, fitting their bodies together and kisses the back of Louis’ neck; he hums.

“I might need you to go out later though, grab some things for a spell I need to muck up,” Louis adds once Harry’s pulled away and has started opening the tuna and preparing it.

“Okay, just make a list and I’ll go grab ‘em. From Horan’s and Malik’s right? We’re still getting from them?” Harry asks, he’s salt and peppering the tuna from what Louis can make of it. Then he sticks it into the oven, to warm it through, he’s never really liked it fully cooked.

“Yeah, just be careful because Liam told me that he saw a pair of hunters come through his store yesterday. Not that you couldn’t handle them if you did come across them, but stay fluffy until you get inside Zayn’s? I told them you would be coming tonight anyways, so the window should be opened.” Louis tries to hide his concern and worry with a smile and bright eyes, but if anyone can tell that he’s trying to hide something it’s Harry.

You see, witches and their familiar’s have this bond that no one can break, it’s usually always intimate - in more ways than one - whether it be romantic or friendly. There’s always a protective air around the pair as well, if you messed with a witch's familiar you better be prepared for a dark world in your future.

Louis remembers the day Harry arrived on his doorstep, literally. He had just arrived back from a late night club crawl with Zayn, his mind fuzzy with the remnants of alcohol buzzing through his veins, when he nearly stumbled over the small fluff ball that was curled up on his doormat.

The instant Louis had picked Harry up, his eyes had opened, a jade green meeting Louis’ own blue, before Harry had meowed and that was it, as they say, the rest was history. It took Harry a few days to get comfortable in the flat before he turned into his boy form. Still young around the edges, but now he’s aged into something that he’ll always be: muscular and powerful, and with Louis by his side they’re unstoppable.

Harry sighs, he pulls Louis in by the belt loops of his black jeans and wraps his arms around his middle. “I’ll be fine, you know I always am.”

“I know, I just worry is all.” Louis averts his eyes from Harry’s, it only takes a second before Harry is nuzzling and biting at his neck; Harry purrs.

“You’re too much,” Louis laughs, and pulls away so he can capture Harry’s lips in his own. He kisses him slowly, let’s the air around them settle into a comfortable silence as they wait for the beep of the oven to interrupt them.

When it does, Harry pulls away and quickly takes his tuna out of the oven.

“I swear, if there’s one thing I think would take you away from me, it would be tuna,” Louis chuckles.

Harry looks up with wide green eyes. “Nothing could take me away from you,” he says seriously.

Louis’ heart bubbles in his chest, nearly ready to explode like a bomb he’s put under way too many cars, going off, but behind his ribcage.

“Eat your tuna, I’m gonna go make the list.” Louis walks out of the kitchen and into the study, which was originally a second bedroom, but there’s no use for one, so a study it is. He sits down at the messy desk, old papyrus paper and century old books piled high litter the dark oak wood.

He grabs a piece of paper, ‘witch paper’ he’s dubbed it because of the old texture and crinkled edges. He quickly scribbles down the spices and few other odd ends of things that he needs to restock his cabinet that sits directly to his right.

Minutes pass before Harry comes trotting into the room, back in his cat form, and jumps onto the desk to rub his whiskers along Louis’ cheekbones; he licks his cheek.

“Eww, Haz what did we say about you kissing me after eating that raunchy fish.” Louis backs away and makes a disgusted face. He hates the smell of fish and hates the taste even more; he usually makes Harry brush his teeth after he eats it, that’s how much he doesn’t like it.

Harry pulls away and hunches in on himself. There’s a trace of hurt evident in his eyes, which Louis can’t stand because he put there.

“Aww, come on, you know ‘m only joking,” he coos, and scratches behind Harry’s ear; he starts to purr and rubs his head along Louis’ arm.

“This list is all finished. You ready to head out?” he asks, tying the small rolled up paper to Harry’s purple color.

Harry purrs and licks Louis’ cheek once again, like a goodbye, before jumping off the desk and dashing towards the living room. Louis follows behind him with a fond smile on his face. He opens the window for Harry to jump onto the fire escape and be on his way to Niall and Zayn’s.

“One hour,” Louis tells him, “If you’re not back, I’m gonna come looking.” He says this every time he sends Harry off on an errand, can’t help but worry and think of what could happen to him. Don’t get him wrong, Harry is powerful, where Louis comes in with spells and hexes, Harry is there with a brilliant mind and an even more brilliant ability to move things with it.

Louis leans over and kisses in between Harry’s ears before pulling away. He watches him hop down the fire escape and down the alley towards Niall and Zayn’s.

He checks his phone, 10:04 p.m.

 

Every time Harry goes out, Louis spends the hour time limit worrying and trying to distract himself.

First he cleans the mess that Harry left in the kitchen, then straightens up the bedroom and the entire house. And that’s only in the first 15 minutes.

He would text Zayn and ask if he’s made it there yet, but Harry made him promise to stop doing that after the 4th time he came out looking when Zayn said that he hadn’t yet, and he’d still had 40 minutes left.

It usually only takes Harry about 35 minutes to make the run, give or take if it’s a big order or not. So Louis’ blood pressure doesn’t truly rise until he’s passed that mark and still hasn’t returned home.

He starts pacing throughout the flat, and even though Louis may not hold a physical power, like Harry does with his mind, the air around him starts to charge and make a storm swirl around his body.

A bang comes from the door just as a small tornado takes home in Louis’ flat, he huffs, making the storm die out and rushes over to the door, yanking it open.

He scowls. “What do you want Grimshaw.”

“Maybe calm down a bit, I can feel your irritation from my own place next door.” Nick challenges, with a cocked eyebrow.

“Fuck off,” Louis says, and slams the door in his face.

A patting sound comes from the living room, and Louis runs to the window to see Harry standing there with wide, frightened eyes.

Louis quickly opens the window so Harry can leap through, the small box that hangs from his collar falls to the floor and then he’s quickly spinning before turning into Louis’ boy, and standing up, panting and gripping his side; he mewls.

“What happened?” Louis says, panic running through his words as he slides up to the side that Harry isn’t gripping in pain. Louis slowly guides him down the short hallway and into the study.

“Someone –,” Harry gasps, like it’s hard to breathe, “Hit me,” he gets out. Louis carefully places him on the black futon that sits against one of the study's walls and lifts Harry's shirt to inspect the area Harry was holding.

Sure enough, there’s a large bruise and gash in Harry’s right side. There’s blood oozing out and sticking to his white shirt, purple and blue already color the skin around his ribs. Louis looks up, fear going wild for his boy and anger boiling his blood at whoever did this to him.

“Shit,” Louis mutters, he has to fix Harry up first before he can do anything about who did this to him.

He grabs the pair of scissors from the desk and cuts straight through Harry’s shirt, making him groan.

“Don’t act like you don’t have about 24 other shirts identical to this one,” Louis tries to lighten the mood.

Huffing out a small laugh, Harry whines in pain and tries to clutch at his side, Louis bats his hand away. “Don’t touch,” he demands.

Quickly, he gets up and grabs the small, black leather bound book from his desk that he keeps his most used spells in, and on the first page is a healing one, because let’s face it Harry is an accident prone infant when he's standing on two legs instead of four.

He grabs a small black pot, cauldron you could call it, yes, they really do use those on occasion, and then the spices and liquids he’ll need from his cabinet. He piles them all onto the center of the floor.

He places the small cauldron on the 3 legged stand and whispers, “Parvus ignis et ignis est ignis et conlucent,” until a small flame ignites under the pot.

Throwing in the sage, lavender, and chamomile, he puts in a shot of tree syrup and then fills the rest with graced water. He mixes it quickly with a thin wooden spoon before lifting his hands over the pot and chanting, “Dampnum et mulcere dolorem sanat, somnus,” three times before a small puff of smoke comes from the pot.

Louis waits exactly two minutes before putting out the fire. He mixes the pot one last time, then says, “Frigus,” making the liquid cool down into a paste that he slathers all over Harry’s bruise and cash.

Harry hisses, his inner cat coming out as his cheeks pull up and canines stick out.

“I know, but you’ll be better in an hour, so it’s worth it,” Louis says as he rubs some more of the dark colored paste on the wound.

“Sleepy,” Harry mumbles once Louis’ placed a cotton cloth over the paste, so it can work its magic, literally.

“You’ll sleep until it’s fully healed, and until then I’m gonna find out who did this to you,” Louis promises him, kissing his cheeks lightly before he finally drifts off.

Now that Louis knows Harry will be okay he makes work on the large memory book that sits on the top shelf of his book rack. He scans the countless pages until he finds what he’s looking for, he repeats the spell in his head multiple times before grabbing the vile of graced water and a sprig of rosemary.

He walks over to Harry’s sleeping form on the futon. Louis watches as his chest rises and falls in a gentle rhythm. He can't help himself when he starts to smile down at Harry, who - like he can sense Louis - lets a small smile grace his own face. There won't ever be a time when Louis' heart doesn't speed up or his stomach is empty of butterflies because of all the love and affection he has for the healing boy on the futon.

Kissing the top of his forehead, Louis places the rosemary there and then dribbles some droplets of graced water over it and says, “Memoria tragoedia, veni,” and quickly places his hand on the back of Harry’s neck as if he were to kiss him.

Flashes of black and white come into view when he closes his eyes, and he easily recognizes it as their parking lot. He watches, in Harry’s point of view, as he trots over to jump up on the fire escape when someone on a motorbike skids into his side and kicks down the kickstand. “Stupid cat,” the person snarls, a smirk on his face as he shoves Harry to the side with a booted foot.

Louis removes his hand, and he swears there’s steam escaping from his ears and that his whole body has gone red because there’s only one obnoxious person who has a motorbike in their building: Grimshaw.

And Hell if he thinks he’s going to get away with hurting Louis’ boy, Louis’ _familiar¸_ Nick knows how important familiar’s are, he’s a witch himself, so the anger that’s bubbling inside Louis heightens that he would do this on purpose.

Louis doesn’t even need to grab a book or make a call to Zayn, the second most powerful witch next to him in the city, to know exactly what he’s going to do to Grimshaw.

He makes work at it while Harry sleeps, gathers the ingredients and mumbles curse after curse and hex after hex over the cauldron until it's bubbling black and then turns to a thick ash.

Harry wakes shortly after Louis’ bagged the dust in a deep green hex bag.

“What’s that?” Harry questions, his voice groggy and raspy as he slowly lifts himself onto his elbows.

“Just something for a friend of ours. How’re you feelin’?” Louis makes his way over to the futon and sits on the edge, cupping Harry’s cheek and kissing him, slow and sweet like honey and molasses mixed together.

“Better, actually quite great, considering,” he chuckles and then leans back in, a dimpled smile on his face just before he presses his lips to Louis’.

“Wanna help me with something?” Louis pulls away, a sadistic smile plastered across his face.

“When don’t I?” Harry’s smile widens, his dimples deepening, “Just need a shirt first.”

For a change Louis’ the one purring as he runs his blunt fingernails down Harry’s chest. “Hmm, I think otherwise,” he ducks down and kisses along Harry’ neck and down his chest, sucking a dark mark over his heart; Harry shivers.

“As much as I want to, we have this thing don’t we?”

“I love you,” Louis blurts, he does that more often than not when Harry keeps him under check.

“I love you too, now come on, tell me what are we doing?”

A wicked grin takes residence on Louis’ face, he lifts the little green bag in front of Harry’s face. “Just putting a hex on a horrible person, who’s had it coming since forever ago,” Louis shrugs.

“I could guess,” Harry states. 

There's a beat of silence before they simultaneously say, “Grimshaw.”

Louis drops the bag onto his lap, and puts both of his hands on Haryr’s cheeks before pulling him into a kiss. “You have no idea how much I love you,” he ghosts over his lips.

“I think I could guess,” Harry cheeks, “Now come on, I think I could be useful for this.”

They both quickly change into all black, because Louis has always liked dramatics, before they head out into the hall way and over to the flat next to theirs.

Harry puts his ear next to the door, thank God for the cat reflexes. “No one’s home,” he states, then flicks his hand so the door is swinging open.

They stealthily walk into the messy flat that smells disgustingly like weed and week old pasta sauce.

“Where should we hide it?” Louis asks, don’t get him wrong he’s smart at these things, but Harry’s just that much clever about it.

Harry looks around the flat, as if he’s seeing Grimshaw moving around it and calculating where he goes least. “Couch, inside either the cushion or the actual couch,” he beams at Louis.

“Brilliant,” Louis walks over and Harry follows, flipping up one of the cushions with the flick of a wrist, and then clicking out a claw to slice over the fabric. Louis shoves the bag as far in as he can and then flicks his hand over the cut. “Sarcio,” and then the fabric is mending itself back together in seconds.

Harry flips the cushion back over and then grabs Louis’ wrist and pulls him in until they’re flush together. “Think we should fuck on his bed. Topping on the cake,” he whispers and starts kissing down Louis’ neck.

Louis swoons. “Don’t ever leave me,” he gasps out when Harry bites down exactly where Louis likes.

“Never,” Harry replies. 

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments always appreciated .x 
> 
>  
> 
> translations:
> 
> spell one: "fire, fire, fire, burn small and bright"  
> spell two: "heal the damage, soothe the pain, sleep"  
> spell three: "cool"  
> spell four: "memory, tragedy, come to me"  
> spell five: "mend/repair"


End file.
